


Perfect Places

by mush_from_marketing



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Achohol Inaccuracies, Fluff, Im trying my best, Medical Inaccuracies, Modern AU, Multi, Romance, don’t drink and drive, ooc???, please
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 10:22:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18313631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mush_from_marketing/pseuds/mush_from_marketing
Summary: “Tequila?” The stranger raises a brow.“I find it the best thing to drink when getting to know someone.”Arthur meets a stranger at a bar and things go from there.(Finished editing! It’s slightly different now.)





	Perfect Places

**Author's Note:**

> Hii! This is only my second fanfiction so I’m not that good at writing yet. Please enjoy!

Van der Linde Construction was, admittedly, not how Arthur though his mid 30’s were going to be.

 

Don’t get him wrong; Arthur loved what he did. Everything fit into place when it was physical work. It was like a puzzle. There was always a reason something didn’t fit. And a way to fix it. The people he worked with were good too. They were like family. Insufferable at times but bearable. It just was so dull. Moving from one place to the next, having no free time, and never knowing what was going to happen, or where Dutch was taking them next.

 

 

Life just sucked right now. Not that it’d been great before. It was just the came with the territory and Arthur knew that. It didn’t make it any better.

 

The latest build they were requested to do was in Saint Denis. Dust and humidity were about all that inhabited the town, but nonetheless they took the job. Well, Dutch took the job and everyone else just filed in line behind him. Just like always.

 

That's why Arthur was stuck at the cheapest, shitest motel, at ass o’clock, bored out of his mind, and not tired at all. Everyone, as far as Arthur knew, was asleep. It’s not like he was going to knock on their doors and ask if they weren't. He could find himself company. It was no surprise he ended up sneaking away in his truck on his way to the nearest bar. It was down the road a little ways. A dank hole in the wall kind of place, illuminated well with loud chatter on the inside.

 

Walking in hit him with a burst of warmth. There was a good amount of people inside, most of them watching a game loudly, or at one of the tables just drinking. He took a seat at the bar. For the most part the chairs around him were empty, save for about three at the end. He tapped on the counter for the bartender.

 

“Whiskey.”

 

As soon as the glass was set down in front of him and he wasted no time downing it. It tasted mysteriously like scotch and burned his throat going down. It was a little too warm, and did little to dampen his surroundings.

 

The door to the bar opened and closed again with a thud. It didn’t make Arthur didn’t look up from his drink until the person carefully dropped down right beside him and ordered. Glancing over, was quite a surprise. Across his dark skin were stark, ugly bruises, the worst of it on his cheek making a grisly watercolor. His long hair was in tangles, and a little blood stained the collar of his shirt. Arthur winced in sympathy.

 

“Jesus,” Arthur whistled “that looks pretty ugly.” The man frowned and cut his tired eyes half-heartedly.

 

“None of your business” he mumbled into his glass.

 

“Why don’t I buy you a drink?”

 

He gestures to the drink in his hands. “I can get one myself.”

 

Arthur taps the bar, “Never said you couldn't”

 

“Tequila” The bartender reaches under the counter and pours the liquid into the shot glasses.

 

“Tequila?” The stranger raises a brow.

 

“I find it the best thing to drink when getting to know someone.”

 

“Charles” he says “my name is Charles Smith.” Arthur and Charles both tap the glasses on the table before downing them. “Arthur Morgan” he downs another shot. “What's with the bruises if you don’t mind me askin’ ?”

 

“Just makin a living” Charles stares at the table.

 

“Ever thought about doing anything else?”

 

Charles glares. “Then what do you do?”

 

Arthur raises his hands and takes a step back in surrender. “Sorry, I overstepped.” he says “I do construction.”

 

“Are you doing adding on to the building over at the Memorial Hall?” he asks into his drink.

 

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

 

“No reason”

 

“What's that supposed to-” Arthur was cut short, when he knocked into a man behind him. “ ’m sorry, sir.” he whips around apologize.

 

“No ya not!” The obviously drunk man slurs into Arthur's face, spitting on his in the process.. He throws an uncoordinated punch at Arthur, who dodges easily slamming into yet another patron. The entire bar seems to get riled up. Yelling and insults are thrown, and all at once the place seems to start fighting. Punch after punch is thrown, lucky from mostly wasted patrons, so it's quite easy to turn away and direct their attention to someone else.

 

A man spots him, and much to Arthurs dismay, looks mostly sober and impossibly bigger than any man Arthur has ever seen. He tries to walk behind him, but the on-goers fighting around him block his exit. The man gets closer, and all Arthur can see is his muscles and firey eyes looking straight at him. Just when his soul is about to leave his body and descend to whatever is on the other side, his hand is grabbed and he is forcibly pulled to the exit.

 

Outside, the shouts are muffled by the walls but still audible. Arthur still has a little adrenalin in his system, and his heart is hammering his ribcage. He turns to see who his escapie is and can’t help the smile that splits his face. Charles stands in front of him, slightly out of breath and a half full bottle in his hand. They watch each other a moment looking the other up and down. Finally, Charles holds up the bottle. “Figured we would need this.” Arthur lets a breathless chuckle spill out before grabbing the bottle and taking a hefty swig. He passes the the bottle back, and Charles does the same.

 

“You got a car?” Charles asks. It's darker on the street, but the light captures his soft features perfectly. Stubbled face and almost black eyes, cast shadows over his face. “Depends. Where you wanna go?”

 

“I know a place. It's out of town a little ways.” Charles treks toward the cars.

 

“We’ve both been drinkin’!“

 

“Then don’t get pulled over!” he calls over his shoulder.

 

Arthur shakes his head and jogs to catch up to him.

 

-=+=-

 

The ride over is mostly silent, other than Charles giving directions. He really wasn’t lying about it being out of town. They were about 10 minutes in the country, when the old pickup finally came to a stop.

 

The rural area was something Arthur was used to. The untouched grass and warm free breeze. The swampy land around was different from what he normally was around, but it was still better than the city.You could see the stars better from here. Thousands if not millions, peppered the sky above their heads. 

 

They sat in the bed of the truck, passing the bottle between them. The night was quiet. Arthur couldn’t hear the city. Not the cars, people, or even bar fights. Peaceful.

 

“How’d you find this place?” Arthur took a sip and passed the bottle back.

 

Charles did the same before answering “I didn’t. Guy I met at a bar dragged me out here.”

 

Arthur huffed a laugh. “You just continuing tradition?”

 

“Maybe not all of it.” he said smile barely gracing his lips.

 

Arthurs blushed “You like the city?”

 

“ ‘bout as much as anyone else. Been here for a while,” he takes a sip “you get used to it.”

 

They stay in a comfortable silence looking up at the stars and listening to the silence. Charles hair is rusled in the weak wind. It looks silky except for the few knots that are in it. His lips busted too now that Arthur can see, and it sends a feeling through his chest.

 

“You should come join construction. You look strong enough and” he gestures to Charles's face “it's surprisingly less dangerous.” He doesn't know why he said it. It's technically not a lie. He doesn't like seeing anyone bruised up. Stupid old heart. And alcohol.

 

“You hardly know me” Charles scoffs.

 

“Doesn't mean I don’t want to know you.” He lifts the drink in his hand shrugging.

 

Charles looks away and doesn't say anything for a while. Arthur thinks he's overstepped his bounds again and is about to apologize when Charles speaks, “I’ll think about it.”

 

Arthur smiles

 

Charles turns and is about to speak, but brings a hand to his lip. It must have broken from talking. Without saying a word, Arthur walks over to the passenger side of the car. He opens the door and reaches under the seat. He grabs his desired item, a first aid kit, and leans to the cup holder for the half full bottle of water. He walks back to the bed of the truck, where Charles looks at him curiously.

 

“What's that?” Arthur hauls himself up on the truck and opens the kit. Using the water he wets a gauze, and slowly he moves it to Charles’s lip. Charles flinches when it makes contact, and Arthur hesitates. Instead, he ops to hold the gauze out for the other to do himself. Charles shakes his head and takes Arthur's hand. He brings it to the injured lip and has Arthur's hand hover over it. They meet eyes and silently Arthur continues his work.

 

The bloods mostly stopped, now just coming off dry, as he wipes it off. The blood made it look worse than it actually is, meaning it won’t need stitches. His fingers linger at Charles lip and he tries to catch his eye again. It seems he's looking anywhere but Arthur. “Looks okay.” he informs him, trying to strike a conversation.

 

Charles nods still not looking at Arthur. “We should be getting back.” With that, he hops off the bed and gets in the passenger seat. Arthur sighs, and grabs the kit and near empty tequila bottle and heads back to the truck.

 

-=+=-

 

They arrive in town not long after. No one spoke a word on the way back. It wasn’t necessarily awkward. Not with the windows half cracked and music low. Charles had closed his eyes and swayed lightly to the music. He looked so… serene. Arthur was speechless, not wanting to bother the man.

 

Now at their destination, Arthur got out and opened the door for Charles. “I can open the door myself.” he griped as he jumped out of the car. 

 

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Can’t you let me be a gentleman for once?”

 

“Can’t make you something you’re not.”

 

“Making jokes now are we Mr. Smith?” he chortled.

 

They both had smiles on their faces now looking at each other fully. “Do you have any paper?” Charles asks. Arthur nods, quickly opening the door to his truck, scavenging a pen and paper. He gives it over when he finds it and Charles scribbles something on it.

 

“Can I walk you home?” Arthur asks getting the pen and paper back.

 

“No” he says “but I hope I see you again.”

 

Arthur couldn't help the slight disappointment from that claim. “I-uh,” Why is it so hard to say goodbye? He’s only known Charles a few hours. “See you around then.” He smiled tightly and turned to make his way to his truck.

 

He’s halfway there when he feels the same hand as earlier tug on his. He turns just as Charles places a feather light kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for tonight.” he whispers into Arthur's ear. And with that, Charles makes his way to his apartment and Arthur to his truck.

 

-=+=-

 

Later, when Arthur is getting ready to get at least an hour of sleep, he looks at the note Charles gave him.

 

xxx-xxx-xxxx

Would love to see you again ;)

 

That warms him more than scotch, tequila, or any alcohol ever could.

**Author's Note:**

> Updates are slow but I know what I want to do. Constructive criticism is always welcomed! Any questions just ask. Should I make a part 2?
> 
> -Clem <3


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